Ariysen Sauventrine.
The Beginning. In her early years, Ariysen Sauventrine wandered the city of Stromguarde-- her home. Though she was forbidden to do such, her curiosity, like most times, got the best of her. She lavished at the splendor of the ostentatious kingdom and spent nearly all her day rooted in front of it, her imagination driving her to impossible dreams and hopes. The vicinity was huge, and filled with possibilities. Of course there was-- until the invasion. Ariysen was suddenly aroused by the thunderous march approaching the skirts of Stromguarde, boots ominously hitting the ground in unison. The priestess peered outside her window above her, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the heel of her hand. Though her vision still blurred, her prediction was confirmed by the army of figures spilling out from beneath the bridge, scimitars, daggers, bludgeons, maces, whips and even the odd staff in hand. Comprehension overwhelmed her accompanied along by fear. Behind the army of Syndicate wsa a group of ogres and Witherbark trolls stalking close behind, their eyes maliciously and threateningly scoping the area. With her cheek pressed up against the window, she couldn't calculate their true amount, nor could she realize if there were Knights on the other side of the Syndicate confluence. Ariysen shrunk back in revulsion, taking another look at the... things gathered in front of Stromgarde-- her home. She appraised the Syndicate's primitive sneers, their heavily armed bodies and their masks. She understood the way their hands were raised, and could hear the muffled shouts of propositions from beneath their ebon coloured masks. The ogres had their fists at their sides, snarling and mumbling incoherently. They were simply vacuous. But what did you expect? They were ogres. Though the things that frightened her the most were the trolls. They were hideously prognathous and horrid looking. Their faces held large grins, causing wrinkles in their cheeks to extend up so high, you could barely see their eyes. Ariysen ran down into the kitchen where her parents were supposed to be gathered. They weren't. Her breathing began to quicken, though the rapid pounding of her heart was even faster-- if that was even remotely possible. Bolting into the next room,her breath caught in her throat. In the corner of the room, two Syndicate hovered over her mother lying either unconscious or dead on the floor-- she truly didn't want to look. They peered over their shoulder, wickedly lecherous grins smeared on their faces. The one farthest from her nodded to the other. Once signaled, the man got up and approached Ariysen. With an ear piercing scream, she was hoisted into the air, struggling with all her might to be released. That is, of course, until she was knocked unconscious by the rump of the man's sword. "I still got the bump on my head, if you wanna see." For what seemed like centuries, Ariysen developed into an adolescent, but also their most valued captive for reasons she knew not. Occasionally she would accompany the men to meetings or events they attended, simply to serve as eye candy for others. The pirestess refused to show them insight to her dreadful misery and overtime, for most of the day her face was a calm exterior-- which would constantly serve as a mask-- betraying not even a hint of emotion. Men, ogres and trolls would hold high disdain for her, sneering and leering and hooting at her whenever she was released from her cell. It was obvious the contempt they hold for her and reluctance at... well, keeping her alive. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, she thought. At the lone years of seventeen, her gray eyes held a glistening, elderly maturity despite her age. There were other girls among her, but she would have barely more than zero contact with any of them. Some would give her nods of reassurance, and others wouldn't even acknowledge her existence. She wished the men would treat her the same. But slowly and reluctantly, she was realizing what she wanted wasn't relevent to practically anything. "Get in here, woman!" Redd called, the cell supervisor-- her personal problem. Ariysen drew in a barely audible breath, rolling her shoulders. She strode easily up the stairwell, running her nimble fingers along the black, dank stone walls. "Master Redd?" The young priestess met his copper gaze cooly, clasping her hands in front of her. Before she could even think about what he was doing, Redd flicked his hand at the other guards beside the door-- the ones Ariysen hadn't yet seen. She hadn't been in the room long enough to scan it fully. Being lifted into the air, she gasped with sudden struggle. Yelling of protest, they began to carry her toward a large wooden platform oddly deserted. "Put me down, you hideous brutes!" she screamed. The two guards erupted with laughter, throwing their heads back with thrill. They weren't laughing at her command, but with the lust that soon, her blood would be spattered over their faces... and they would get to taste the liquid of their latest masterpiece. With the way her arms were twisted and bound inclemently behind her back, she wouldn't doubt that they would soon have their wish. Sighing, she simply went slack; allowing them to drag her onto the platform easier than she planned. It's not like things were going to suddenly turn up. But oddly, it did. "Somewhat." A single reluctant tear escaped from her tightly shut eye, creating a thin trail down her cheek. She drew in a breath, refusing to allow another to fall. Where is Redd? ''she thought. ''What are they waiting for? Distant footsteps walking towards the group sent a shiver up her spine. She recognized those footsteps-- she had heard them constantly when Redd visited her cell to taunt her. Groping fingers of dread tore at her inside, begging for Ariysen to do something. But what was there to do? Ariysen could feel the rage, the sadness, the frustration bottled in the pit of her stomach, soliciting her to recieve proper vengeance. It was time she listened. Ariysen began extracting all the feelings from the pit of her stomach out into her fingers, conjuring a foreign spell she didn't know she could even create. She could feel the shadow energy sizzling throughout her body, searing in and out of her fingers. It was completely silent as Redd approached her with a wicked smirk, his blade glinting in the searing hot sunlight. His foot was rapidly thrown forward, kicking her stomach and caused her to double over. But she didn't need to see him-- Ariysen could feel his cold aura reflecting off his body and knew exactly where he was. Redd's blade lifting into the air, preparing for the beheading strike down on her neck. With a pulse of power, she blew a full blast of shadow into the cell supervisor, the energy crackling and sizzling through his flesh and rupturing bones by the second. The guards yanked their hands back, releasing their death grip on her arms with a startled yell. The two Syndicate guards exchanged shocked looks, which quickly transformed into stares of hard resolve. With a growl of rage gurgling in their throats, they began to charge for her. Ariysen allowed the shadow to slip out of her grasp and into the two men's bodies at once, ripping at their flesh the same as Redd's. As she began striding away, she could hear their whimpers, pleading for strength. Well, that was that. "At least, I was hoping that was that. For some reason, I was reluctant to believe I truly was safe; I was waiting for something to.. I don't know, hop out of the bushes, just to scare the living fel out of me." '' Meeting her Massive. Ariysen made her way towards the small refuge in Arathi Highlands, occasionally peering over her shoulder, checking to see if she was being followed, or worse, was about to be ambushed. The woman approached the nearest man, clothed in golden mail-clad armor. He appraised her through his helm, quirking a thick, black brow. Like many others, he had probably never encountered a half-naked woman seeking to use a horse. "What for?" His tone was skeptical, though Ariysen expected it."I need it for a quick ride to the nearest city. I'd also need someone to accompany me, as I... don't know what or where the nearest city is," she replied curtly. "That seems managable. And may I ask, why you're dressed in such a fashion?" "No. You may not." The man smiled, patting her shoulder. Instinctively, she flinched back, staring at him with a curious frown. He had almost an identical look on his face. "What was that for?" she asked. "I'm... truly sorry if I offended you in any way." Ariysen searched his eyes, finding only sincerity and said nothing. Wishing to escape the awkward silence, the man went on his way, only to return with two firm, strong battle horses. They neighed, nudging the man's arm for a small pat. "I will be riding the lead mare, seeing as you don't know the direction to the city. Gus, here, will follow her the whole way, thus we will have quite the smooth ride, as long as you refrain from alarming or scaring the little guy." ''Did he just say little? This horse was massive! "Heh." Ariysen hoisted her leg over the saddle. Her knuckles turned pure white, clasping the brown leather reins in a firm death grip. If you had attempted to pry her fingers off-- well, you surely wouldn't have succeeded. Uhm, Tram? After they exchanged their goodbyes, Andrew suggested Ariysen keep Gus, but she politely declined. Had she stayed on that horse any longer, her death grip finally would've faltered, and she would've most likely fallen off. Andrew had just recently dropped her off in a totally unfamiliar place-- he called it Ironforge. She didn't understand the name and thought he was kidding. He wasn't. Groaning, she realized she was still barely clothed. The priestess recieved appalled stares, scoffs of disgust, and men hooting and leering. Like she hadn't gotten enough of that already. Keeping her head down, Ariysen began walking around the city, hoping to find something or someone willing to help her. She strode into a nearby shop, her hands clasped in front of her and a forced, pleasant smile smeared on her face. "Is... anyone in here?" she called. "Over here!" came a squeaky voice, sounding not the least bit mature. Following the sound of the voice, she was found at the front of the counter. "I need.. uh, directions." "To where, exactly?" A abnormally small man came through the back door, approaching the counter. "To where, exactly?" His pink hair stuck out every which way in a terribly messy disarray. Ariysen took a step back, her eyes wide. "What are you?!" "... That was just rude, ''miss." He stared up at her, the tips of his mouth curving down in a large frown. "Truly, truly not appreciated in the least." "I.. I'm sorry, I've just never seen your kind before." "You're in Ironforge." "... Yeah, so?" "Though Ironforge was created by dwarves, it has become a temporary settling place for gnomes alike, as our home, Gnomeregan, has fallen to troggs and leper gnomes, created from a radiation bomb. Despite other races, yours included, our population is quite high in this city. If you do not yet understand me, go... go read a book!" "You're a gnome, then?" "Isn't that what I said?" The gnome was nearly screaming at her. Ariysen flinched, knitting her fingers together meekly. This gnome frightened her, despite his tiny size, and this caused her to remain silent. "Now, where did you want directions to?" His tone visibly cooled. When she inclined her head back down to meet his once smoldering eyes, she saw his face was looking sincere and apologetic, as did Andrew's previously. "I could always ask someone else, if I've become a burden to you. I've interrupted your work, it seems." Ariysen looked through the door behind the counter, spotting a small little trinket that could probably have only been created by small, stubby fingers which only gnomes can pull off. "No, no, lady. Now, answer my question." "Stormwind." "Ah, then you're looking for the tram, which is simply north of my shop, here. I'd escort you myself, but these goods are very valuable you know." His small hand gestured out, back at the door, then to nearby gadgets with numbers that, at the moment, she could barely comprehend. "I beg your pardon? The... tram?" Ariysen tilted her head, both eye brows raised dubiously. "Indeed. A large, mobile device sending you from Ironforge to Stormwind, or vice-versa. I believe it was created because people began to get too lazy, delivering various items back and forth to each cities. I'd advise you, though, miss, to not step off. Be wary, because it's an extremely long way back, if you do decide to jump off onto the side." "I'll try not to. Thank you for the help, mister...?" "Kennedy Jeepers Wirefuse!" "... Well, that's quite the mouthful." "Isn't it?" For the first time, Ariysen didn't have to force her tight-lipped smile-- it was actually, truly genuine. After a small conversation, Ariysen made her way north, finding herself in front of one of the trams-- or at least, what looked exactly like he had described as the tram. Hesitantly, she stepped on, chewing on her lower lip. The wagon-like-device wheeled forward, releasing a loud squeaking noise. Gasping, she was basically hugging the side bars before she knew it in one of her pleasant death grips, her fingers curled around the metal. ''I'm going to die... I'm going to die... I'm going to die... This wasn't one of her best experiences. Personality. Her Inner Core. Maintaining a rather complex human mind, her ideals are somewhat misunderstood and boggling. Naturally, she holds a certain caution around most people, including those closest to her, which is quite the small group. She cannot be summed up into one single word, for her personality towards others may change if she or others whom carry a deep influence on her feel it necessary, or perhaps suggest it. Though she holds a wicked hatred for being in the spotlight, she will have quick, mental spurts of courage and confidence and say something drastic before she realizes, and perhaps even regret her decision. When challenged, she allows her uncontrolled rage to get the best of her and lash out-- the consequences afterward are not relevent, but rather oblivious to her at the time of anger and frustration. (( WIP. )) Appearance. Despite her disturbing childhood, Ariysen's face seems to hold a pristine glow-- zero scars and hauntingly pale skin. The priestess is no enigma when it comes to looks; her simple, thick tawny hair cascades neatly just beneath her shoulders, which seemingly holds a permanent position hovering around her placid face. She constantly is having to brush strands away from her eyes, as it is continuously obstructing her vision. Swimming in an ocean of gray eyes are tiny golden flecks, completely unseen from a distance, but totally visible from nearby-- if she even allows you to approach her that closely. Her petite, lithe frame betrays absolutely no hint of muscle, but do not dismiss what your vision does not yet catch. She gained a little muscle muscle while in captivity, and continues to increase her strength on a daily basis. You will never find her without a dagger at her hip, just in case of a dire emergency that she may need one handy. Meeting Srarin. ''Srarin Skyblade-'' Ariysen suddenly aroused, rubbing her temples as she slowly began peering around the tiny abode, squinting to remember how she got into this horribly unfamiliar territory. Something in the shadows caught her eye-- a masculine form, crouching, watching her. Her hand steathily began reaching down towards her boot, where her dagger was usually hidden. It wasn't there. Desperate thoughts raced through her mind as she began contemplating how she was to handle her newest dilemma. Though suddenly, the seemingly large form spoke. "I can assure you, there is no need to be frightened. You seemed to be in need of a shelter because if I'm not mistaken, the side of the alleyway wasn't serving as a proper resting spot." Staring at him, Ariysen seemed to be absorbing his words, attempting to judge them sincere or ingenuine. Drawing in a deep breath, she got to her feet slowly, though keeping her stance low, being prepared in case he decided to attack her. Suddenly, he took a step forward, holding the handle of her dagger out toward her. Taking this to her sweet advantage, her fingers curled around the hilt, holding it in a firm grip. Instead of pulling it away, she plunged it into his hand. Her strength was still needing improvement, thus the dagger didn't tear his flesh as much as she wished it to. The impact caused him to growl ominously, his body jerking away with one quick movement. He began applying pressure to the thin wound, staring at her with the same look Ariysen had given Andrew when he had patted her shoulder. Sweat beaded down her forehead-- she was becoming anxious, tensely waiting for him to attack her. She would've been waiting an eternity for him to even lay a single hand on her. Srarin simply stood there, his penetrating, radiant eyes fixed on hers. Oddly, they both wore identical, blank exteriors, though only one had their fingers curled around the hilt of a blood soaked dagger. Ariysen gingerly began taking slow, long strides towards the door-- testing him. But when her eyes left his for just a moment to navigate where the door knob was, he had vanished. The woman sucked in a quick breath as she peered around the abode, pondering how such a tall form could slip so easily into the shadows, as he had just done. Her once shifty eyes glistened hard with resolve as she whipped around, grasping the doorknob with shaking, nimble fingers. Yanking it open, what greeted her wasn't exactly what one would call... a pleasant surprise. Srarin was standing just outside the door frame, rain slipping down his cheek, creating a thin, wet trail while his arms crossed firmly over his chest. Thick droplets of blood traveled down Srarin's fingertips until it fell and tainted the pool of water beneath him. (( WIP, too. >.>; )) Category:Human Category:Alliance Category:Alliance Priest